Stages of the Day
by Tynesider
Summary: A young Sheila wishes for a dragon to come and visit her, and when one arrives the experience passes like a day in time.
1. Dusk

**Stage 1: Dusk**

"Sheila! Sheila! Where are you?"

Shrouded by the long tufts of grass, a young kangaroo tittered at her little joke. The day had slipped from sunlight into twilight, and was encroaching the border with dusk as the last rays of sunlight stopped illuminating the world around her. Knowing what darkness meant, she had bounded away as fast as her little legs would take her into the long grass: the perfect hiding spot for a young marsupial such as herself.

"Sheila!" the voice shouted again, drawing another laugh from the girl. Slowly she poked an eye above the tips of the blades she hid behind and observed. There was nobody around, just the fading images of grass, cliffs and small wooden shacks as the last of the light drained away. Soon it would be pitch black, and she hoped her father wouldn't find her before then. She had only ever seen complete darkness through the safety of her bedroom window, as no matter how much she begged her parents wouldn't let her out after sundown. Begging eventually degraded into tantrums which had drawn no further progress, so she had taken a more ambitious step of hiding when it was time to come in.

She lowered her head again, presuming there was nothing to worry about, but was taken by surprise as hands grabbed her from behind and lifted her off her feet.

"There you are!" a stern male voice said. Sheila gulped as she was spun around to meet the angry face of her father, his bespectacled eyes burning.

"Hi Daddy," she said innocently.

"Why didn't you come in when I told you to?"

"I forgot."

"Then why didn't you answer me when I shouted for you?"

"I didn't hear you."

"I really hope you didn't, because if you did ignore me then you haven't been a very good young lady!" he snapped, "I've been worried sick about you, as has Mummy!"

"Sorry," she said, feigning sincerity. The disheartened coo of his little girl made her father drop his confrontational stance.

"Come on," he sighed, "Let's get you home. It's your bedtime."

"But I'm not tired!" Sheila moaned as her father hopped away from the undergrowth.

"Maybe so, but it's still your bedtime."

"Why though?"

"Because I'm your father, and my word is final!"

Sheila moaned about her predicament throughout the journey home, aggravating her father's already frazzled nerves with every whine. She moaned when her mother scolded her for being out after dark; she moaned between minty breaths as she brushed her teeth, and she moaned as her father plonked her down onto her bed and tucked the sheets up to her chin.

"Tell me a bedtime story," she said, hoping to buy a few extra minutes of time awake.

"No. Straight to bed for you, sweetheart."

"Please!"

"You could have had a bedtime story if you'd come home when I told you to, but you didn't so it's lights-out time now."

"But Daddy!" she wheedled, unleashing her puppy-dog eyes on the man standing over her. He tried to resist his daughter's demand, but after a stressful day the sight of childhood innocence overcame him.

"Fine!" he snapped, seating himself on the edge of her bed, "A few minutes won't hurt."

"Yay! I love you Daddy!" Sheila cheered, sitting up and hugging his scrawny waist.

"I'm sure you do, now what do you want a story about?"

"Anything!" she replied, settling back into her bed and cuddling her beloved stuffed dragon toy. He spotted this and a short narrative began to form in his head.

"Alright," he said after a brief pause, "Did you know that there's a world somewhere filled with dragons?"

"Dragons aren't real," Sheila said.

"But they are. How could they not be real if you've got one right there?"

Sheila stared into the beady black eyes of her toy. It made sense: how could they have made a toy dragon if they didn't know what one looked like?

"Oh," she said, suddenly feeling knowledgeable.

"Yes," her father nodded, "And these dragons are in charge of everything. Some of them make art; some of them protect other dragons; some of them fill the world with magic and some even make sure we have good dreams!"

"Will a dragon make sure I have a good dream?" Sheila asked, enthralled by her father's tales.

"Maybe. The dragons make sure only good little boys and girls have good dreams."

"Am I a good little girl?" Sheila asked, concerned that a dragon may not protect her from the monsters of the night.

"If you say sorry to Daddy for staying out after dark, I'm sure the dragons will think you are."

"I'm sorry."

"Apology accepted," he glanced at the clock on her bedside table, "Well, I think it's lights-out time..."

"No! Tell me more!" Sheila protested, "Can we go and see the dragons sometime? Will you take me there?"

"I'm afraid we can't go and see the dragons, sweetheart."

"Aww," she squealed dejectedly, "Why not?"

"Because we don't know where they are."

"Then will they come and see me?"

"Maybe someday, but for now you need to get some sleep."

This time Sheila didn't protest and let her father tuck her in without a fight.

"Night night," he said sweetly, planting a small kiss on her cheek.

"Night night," Sheila replied. She watched as her father flicked off the light and closed the door, waving to her sweetly before the wooden oblong blocked out the light of the living room completely.

The second the door clicked shut Sheila kicked the blankets clear and leapt onto the carpet. She bounded over to the window, drew back the curtains and stared into the night, drawn to it like a butterfly to a flower. She liked darkness, maybe because it was so unobtainable; a vice her parents had denied her in her seven years of existence. She liked how it cast great, mysterious shadows over everything and how it brought out the bright dots of the stars, but tonight her focus wasn't on what she could see – it was what was beyond it. Somewhere out there was a world filled with dragons, a world aching to be explored, and she wanted to be the one to do so. She wanted to be the first person to meet the dragons; she wanted to see what they did and join in with their games. She wanted to travel with one and become involved in the same adventures they undertook. She wanted to do all of those things, but it all hinged on finding where these fabled dragons were, and despite her eagerness she knew that was beyond the capabilities of a seven year-old.

"I want to meet a dragon," she whispered to the world laid bare before her eyes, and as she crawled back into bed and cuddled up with her beloved toy the world listened. It whispered her request to each passing element, sending it hurtling across the Forgotten Worlds and through the dimensional barriers, carrying on into a world where the reptile reigned supreme. There the request hovered, waiting to be accepted by the brain of one of the many dragons that wandered the kingdom. Hours ticked into days, days into months and months into years. The sender of the request grew and matured; the request was forgotten, but still it waited for a dragon to come and accept it, never giving up hope that a reptile would grant the wish of a little girl many miles away.

Then, after many years of waiting, the request was slurped into the subconscious of a purple dragon, and he set off on the hunt for the sender of the plea.

* * *

><p><strong>Hello,<strong>

**Since there's so little on this site about the original characters (especially the minor ones) I've decided to take the matter into my own hands and write a little arc about Sheila, beginning here with an event from her childhood. I'm also kind of drawn to the idea of progression, hence the use of times of day as chapter titles, and if you're wondering why I've started at dusk instead of sunrise, remember that a new day begins 24 hours after the last began, so...**

**As always, reviews are appreciated.**

**Yours,**

**Tynesider**


	2. Sunrise

**Stage 2 – Sunrise**

There was a brief struggle, then a sharp sting in her arm, then nothing.

When she woke daylight had arrived. Her eyes watered under the intensity of a Spring sun but that pain was bettered by those in her arms and legs. Groaning, she moved to sit up and heard a metallic rattling which grated against her sore head. Dazed, confused and feeling slightly uneasy, she paused to allow her vision to focus then looked again. What she saw was not agreeable: chains. Chains around her wrists and ankles that linked her to the bars of a steel cage, which was being rolled along a dusty path by a band of Rhynocs.

With a sudden burst of adrenaline she began to pull at her bonds, tugging furiously in a desperate bid to free herself. Why or how she was here wasn't important at this moment in time, escape was the only priority. The chorus of jiving metal drew the attention of the Rhynocs pulling her prison along, and one of them jabbed her in the ribs with the butt of his spear to silence her. The sharp jab subdued her but only for a moment, and soon she was back to tearing at the chains, cutting herself on the rusted metal with each jerk of her joints. This earned her multiple jabs from disgruntled Rhynocs growing tired of the din she was making.

"Quiet!" one of them shouted in the slow, forced voice that characterised the species.

"Where am I?" Sheila demanded, glaring at the cautious creatures surrounding her cage, "And why am I locked up?"  
>"Sorceress' orders," a Rhynoc grunted, "She told us to arrest you, so we did."<p>

"On what grounds?"

"The Sorceress' word. Now be quiet."

"What about my Mum and Dad? Where are they?" she banged her fists against the wooden base of the cage, "I demand you tell me where they are this instant!"

"Silence!" the Rhynoc screamed. He jabbed again, this time with the sharpened end of his spear. It impaled her fur, albeit only slightly, but it was enough to make the kangaroo scream. "There!" he snapped, "Make another noise and I'll do it again!"

Sheila glared at him contemptuously, but shrivelled back against the bars of her cage and tried to shut out the bumps and jolts of the cart ride.

She spent her twentieth birthday in her cage. And her twenty-first. And her twenty-second. She shivered through winter and sweltered through summer behind steel bars, and she only left that cage once a month for a carefully supervised hour of exercise; once that was over it was back to the old routine of claustrophobia and humiliation.

Her supervisor was an obese bear who spent most days reading the finance pages of the daily newspaper; taking occasional breaks to examine the contents of a bulging sack of gems he always kept close by. He sat beside her cage throughout the day but never spoke to her, which suited her fine – her thoughts were more interesting than any conversations she could have with this oaf. With so little to do the only thing she could ever fall back on for entertainment was her mind, but like any other action there were risks involved.

She had good days and bad days. Sometimes she would sit upright in her cage, giving the fearful passers-by a confident stare that told them she was down but certainly not out, but on other, more painful days she would curl into a tight ball and cry. Cry for the parents she hadn't seen in so long; cry for the Alp that she called home and cry for the little house she could barely remember. Random, nightmarish memories would present themselves to her and crush her waning spirit. Most revolved around her childhood, in particular her parents, but the most painful was a vague recollection of when she was six. She was sat on the living room floor amid a sea of her toys and at her side sat Mum and Dad, occasionally joining in with her games and generally enjoying being in the company of their child. After so long in captivity seeing such happiness was a bitter pill to swallow, but she always picked herself up in the end. This circle of high and low never stopped, regardless of season or circumstance, and with every cycle Sheila felt more and more hopeless. She never dared resign herself to her fate, but as each day passed the desire to escape grew weaker.

The sun rose on another day and Sheila awoke to it, moaning at the displeasure of another stint in her cell. At least while she was asleep she could pretend she was elsewhere, but sleep only took up a third of her day. She sat up and flexed her muscles as best she could, cracking them back into place to fix the damage caused by being in such a cramped space. Arthritis was inevitable if she carried on living like this, but what could she do? Her last escape bid had been foiled by the fact it was hard to hide metal bars that had been kicked into submission. The punishment had been starvation rations, and being stuck in a cramped cage was better than that.

The hours of the morning dragged on, and like all other mornings she sat in silence. She stole occasional glances at the fat bear, who was glancing over his sack of gems with lustful eyes, and sighed disgustedly. Here she was: an innocent kangaroo marooned outside of her homeworld and that slob didn't give two hoots about her. If she ever got out of here she would kick him senseless for his apathy, but after two-and-three-quarter years as a prisoner she didn't hold out much hope.

But then the visitor arrived. Most of the creatures that went by her cage were the timid natives of Sunny Villa and Cloud Spires, but Sheila could see that this one was different. For a start he was a quadruped, whereas every other person around these parts walked on two legs only. He was also purple, and in the many years she had been here she had never seen a creature with a lilac hue stroll by. Because of the distance between them details were sketchy, but as the visitor started walking towards her details began to emerge. The details formed an image of a creature she recognised but certainly didn't expect her. Her jaw dropped open. Impossible.

"Moneybags?" the dragon said, "What're you doing here?"

"Ahh, Spyro!" the bear replied, looking away from his gems for the first time in roughly an hour, "Good to see you again, my boy!"

"What's going on here?" the dragon asked, nodding towards Sheila, "Why is there a kangaroo in a cage?"

"Oh, this fine specimen isn't too popular with the Sorceress, so she had her locked up. It's my job to watch her and make sure she doesn't try and escape."

"What?" the dragon roared in disbelief, "You're happy with her being locked up?"

"Well, with the tidy sum I'm getting because of her I'd say I am."

Sheila looked at the dragon. Simply being in the presence of such a creature added weight to her breath. In the back of her mind she remembered that wish she'd sent out all those years ago, and despite the unlikely odds fate had duly delivered.

"Typical," the dragon spat, "Well, if no-one else will do anything I will. Let her go, Moneybags."

"No can do, my boy, I'm under orders to keep her captive. However..." he rolled his eyes mischievously, "For a gem or two I can misplace the key."

"Name your price."

Sheila didn't hear what the fee was, but the disgruntled look on the dragon's face told her it wasn't cheap. "Hmm," he grunted, "You don't work with small numbers, but I'll pay. Now let her go." Obediently the bear withdrew a ring of keys from his back pocket and approached her cage, sliding one of the metal bars into the lock and turning.

The sound of the lock breaking apart was heavenly, and as the door swung open she resisted the urge to grab the dragon and hug him senseless. Not only would doing such a thing be unprofessional, but she had a much more pressing issue to attend to. Smiling from ear to ear, she turned to the bear and kicked him firmly in the stomach. He crumpled as the breath was forced out of him, but he quickly clambered back to his feet as Sheila continued to pummel him with her powerful paws, laughing with each blow she delivered. The bear ran off screaming, gathering up his bulging sack of gems as he went and cradling it, eager to protect his treasure trove from the maniac he had just released.

She was fulfilled off of the mauling, but the sight of a bewildered dragon brought her crashing back down to Earth. She turned to face him and shot him an awkward smile, laden with affection for his generosity and embarrassment at him seeing her outburst.

"Sorry about that," she said shyly, "I just had to do it. Two-and-a-half years he's been there and he's done nothing."

"It's okay," the dragon smiled back, "If anything I enjoyed watching him get what he deserved."

Sheila laughed out of relief. Making an enemy of her rescuer was the last thing she needed.

"Thank you so much for that," she said, beaming at him, "You didn't have to bribe him but you did, and I'll repay you in any way I can."

"There's really no need," the dragon said, but Sheila had been touched by his random act of kindness and wouldn't take no for an answer.

"Look, after what you've done I at least want to do something in return. Isn't there anything you need at all?"

"Well, I'm here to collect some dragon eggs that were stolen from us, so if you find any I'd be grateful if you could forward them onto me."

"Find some dragon eggs, no sooner said than done," she said, "I need to head back to my home and I'll have a good look for some while I'm there. The place will probably be teeming with Rhynocs by now, you see, and I have a score to settle with some of them."

"Alright," the dragon nodded, "And if I need your help, how can I get in touch?"

"Just shout my name: Sheila," Sheila smiled, "The goats up in my mountain can hear calls from miles away. They can tell me you've called and I'll be with you as soon as I can."

"Great," the dragon nodded, "I'm Spyro, by the way. Seeing as I have your name you might as well have mine."

"Pleased to meet you, Spyro, and thanks again for letting me out of that cage," she stretched her arms and legs, "Now if you'll excuse me, I need to go and give some Rhynocs a good kicking."

She bounded unsteadily over to the portal, her steps awkward after being captive for so long, but she made it to the portal and dived into it, waving goodbye to Spyro as the blue hues consumed her. As he disappeared from view she abandoned professionalism and screamed in delight, kicking and flailing at the nothingness around her simply because she could. The feeling just wouldn't sink in, she was free! Two-and-a-half years of torture were over!New ideas and ambitions began to form in her head, fighting for the most attention from her re-wired brain, but one managed to force itself to the front with little fight: find her parents. If she was right and the Alp was overrun with Rhynocs it was unlikely that they would still be in the house; as a matter of fact, it would be unlikely that the house was there at all. Suddenly she began to panic – Were they safe? Were they alive? It didn't bear thinking about so she shoved it away and focused on the other ideas she had, of which there were only two important ones: remove the Rhynocs from the Alp and assist Spyro whenever she could.

She thought of Spyro again and a smile returned to her lips. How many years had it been since she'd made that wish? Too many, but her patience had paid dividends beyond her wildest dreams. She had met the dragon that her seven year-old self had pined for and he had rescued her from a hell that had torn chunks out of her life. She found herself wishing she had hugged the daylights out of him – it was the only way she could properly convey her gratitude for what he had done.

The portal spat her onto the grass of the Alp and she embraced her home lovingly. The grass; the cliffs; the peaks, all as they were when she had left them, but moments later she saw Rhynocs milling about. She gulped: her fears had been confirmed, but two-and-a-half years of torment had ignited a fire in her belly and with the shackles off she began to stoke the flames with whatever kindling her memories could provide. It was time for revenge, time to balance the books after they had broken her family apart, and as she leapt up a cliff edge to bring herself face to face with a band of the dumb mammals she unleashed her flames. She was a dragon, with wings and horns and fiery breath, and the Rhynocs never stood a chance.

* * *

><p><strong>Hello<strong>,

**As a general rule I'm not a huge fan of writing happy, cheery, lovey-dovey fiction where two characters go on some kind of journey and come back as a couple. No, I like to inject a bit of misery into things even if it's only temporary and a happy ending is the order of the day. So, going by my code of conduct, I had to make Sheila suffer. Luckily this chapter ends on a high note, but there's still a few more Stages of the Day to come and anything can happen.**

**Stage 3 will be here soon enough****, just give me the time I need to garner ideas and put them down somewhere and I'll get it done. Until then you can always leave a review.**

**Yours,**

**Tynesider  
><strong>


	3. Midday

**Stage 3: Midday**

Sheila was surprised at just how little she knew about her homeland.

Despite the years of schooling and examining maps of the Forgotten Worlds she had to admit that she didn't know much about where she was from. She had a vague idea of the Alp and the few places her parents had taken her for holidays, but the rest was gaping void, and as she bounded around Midday Gardens the hole in her head was slowly filled.

She'd only ever seen Midday Gardens in books, and their descriptions had been restricted to climate, relief and major landmarks, but now she stood in the realm itself, though having such a limited scope of the place she wouldn't have known she was there had there not been a friendly hummingbird to tell her where she was upon arrival. This place could be a decoy set up by the Sorceress to recapture her for all she knew, and dangerous or not she scolded herself for her lack of knowledge. After all, you should never judge a place on its landmarks.

Setting aside her doubts, she began to hop around and examine everything with a wary eye. Searches for her parents back home had proved fruitless, and while this didn't make her feel any better she had decided to devote any time she had to helping Spyro. Obviously every trip she took would feature a sweep for her loved ones on the off-chance she'd run into them, but after the vital favour he had done for her she was eager to help in any way she could. Every egg she found felt like she was delivering a kick to the Sorceress' oversized behind, something she had been aching to do ever since she had first fallen behind bars, and it was this eagerness to get revenge that had brought her to Midday Gardens.

As she ploughed her way across the gardens she began to settle into her surroundings. The air was warm against her fur and the aroma of leaves and petals flushed away her unease; every step she took gave her new knowledge to work with, new memories to be stored and new ideas to consider. Only now did she realise how much she had taken her freedom for granted before the Rhynocs had come for her. Now each unobstructed step through the soft grass was blissful.

She hopped up a small flight of stairs and spotted a red portal with a subtle Oriental theme just in time to see a giant creature spill out of it. The thump he made as he landed made the ground beneath her feet tremble, almost knocking her off her feet, though as she steadied herself she recoiled in fear. The lump lying on the floor was a yeti, twice her height and width, and at his side lay a great crystal club at least as big as her. Sheila felt a rush of blood surge through her body as her breathing grew heavier. Like Midday Gardens her only experiences of yetis had come through books, and while she had no particular fear of them seeing one with a superior height advantage and a weapon just a few metres away was enough to make her tremble. What could she do? Run? Maybe that would aggravate him. Say hello? Maybe that would aggravate him too. Torn in indecision, she stayed rooted to the spot. Unfortunately this didn't turn out to be one of her greatest ideas, as moments later the yeti stood up, eliminating the option of fleeing.

Sheila felt a small whimper escape her lips as the yeti drew up to his full height, gathering up his club as he did so. The beast loomed over her, casting a shadow that scraped Sheila's toes despite the fact he was a good two metres away and that the Midday sun generally didn't cast large shadows. His eyes swivelled down to look at Sheila and she felt her heart skip. Out of instinct she prepared her leg muscles to kick in case the yeti attacked, but she doubted anything she did would have too much of an effect on the mighty creature.

The yeti's lips moved to speak and Sheila braced herself for the worst, but once again the yeti surprised her.

"Are you okay, madam?" he asked in a harsh yet soothing accent she would associate with market sellers. Sheila felt her tension slacken at his coaxing tone, but the gap left by her absence of fear was quickly filled again by confusion. "Madam?" he said again, raising a worried eyebrow.

"Erm...I'm fine, thanks," Sheila replied uncertainly.

"Ahh, that's good. It's just you seem a little...anxious, shall we say?"

"Yeah," Sheila nodded, feeling her unease dissipate, "Though to be fair I think most people would be scared of a yeti twice their size holding a giant club."

"A point well made," the yeti laughed, twirling his club acrobatically, "But do not fear, I have no quarrel with you. No, my malice is reserved for those disgusting creatures that serve the Sorceress, and the last time I checked marsupials were not in her service."

Sheila breathed a heavy sigh of relief: she wasn't going to get her head caved in. The yeti picked up on this and laughed. "Oh dear," he chuckled, "I do have a way with instilling fear in people. My sincerest apologies for any discomfort I have caused you."

"It's okay," Sheila shrugged, "I'm sorry I judged you for being a yeti."

"Apology accepted," the yeti declared, "So may I ask what brings a marsupial such as yourself to Midday Gardens? It's just I've never had the fortune to see one here before."

"I'm looking for dragon eggs for a friend of mine."

The yeti's ears pricked up.

"Oh, are you an acquaintance of Spyro?"

"Well, more someone he rescued, but..."

"Is that so? He rescued me too; from this disgusting ursine obsessed with the pursuit of material wealth."

"The bear? Yeah, he had me under lock and key too."

"Well this is a pleasant surprise," the yeti declared, "I presume you were a prisoner of the Sorceress too?"

"Yeah, but since Spyro got me out I've been helping him find some dragon eggs."

"And I've enlisted myself with the same task," the yeti nodded, smiling, "Well, seeing as we are closer connected than previously thought I suppose I'd better introduce myself. I'm Bentley."

"And I'm Sheila."

Bentley leaned forward and Sheila felt her heart surge again, fearing he was making a grab for her. Instead he took her hand and planted a small kiss on it.

"Delighted to meet you," he said. Sheila, feeling flustered and confused by his act of chivalry, only nodded. Her awkward response made Bentley laugh again.

"I usually get that response," he said, "But I think it is a nice way to introduce ones self. Unless you'd prefer a handshake, of course."

"Oh no, do whatever you want," Sheila said, feeling her face ignite.

"That's a relief to hear," he smiled standing up again, "Well, my business here was to collect a dragon egg and that task is now complete, so I think I'll head back to Evening Lake now. My little brother needs me anyway, something about having his ball stolen. Cheerio!" he went to walk away but stopped as he remembered something, "Oh, one last thing. See that portal over there?" he pointed to a portal in the shape of a hanging lantern, "That'll take you to Spooky Swamp. I recall Spyro saying something about a portal that was closed off to everyone but you; chances are you may find a dragon egg in it."

"Okay," Sheila nodded, "Thanks for that."

"No problem," he beamed before setting off again with a spring in his step and a tune on his lips.

Sheila watched him go, his melodious tune making her smile. In a way she felt guilty for making a rash judgement about him because of his size, but his glowing demeanour and poetic speech suppressed any guilt in favour of undiluted joy. Even long after he had gone she remained rooted to the spot for reasons she could not understand. She looked at the Spooky Swamp portal and told herself that she should get moving, but her feet would not budge. It took a great deal of willpower and self-control to get herself moving again but eventually she was hopping, a feat which she only accomplished a good ten minutes after their encounter had ended.

She bounded over to the Spooky Swamp portal and with the powerful leap of a kangaroo she launched herself into its deep blue hues. She didn't use the ladder mainly because she didn't have to, what with being able to jump as high as the intricate towers that loomed above the Gardens, but also because touching the ladder would mean getting her hands dirty, and smearing muck over Bentley's kiss felt like a disrespectful thing to do. Thinking of the moment again made her giggle slightly. What was so appealing about Bentley kissing her hand? It was a perfectly reasonable and polite action to undertake, but why was she so smitten with what he considered normal. Maybe because it was a dated concept from the days when dragons roamed this land in great numbers, but for a fleeting moment Sheila found herself wishing that it was more commonplace.

The portal dispatched her onto the sodden grass of Spooky Swamp and Sheila readied herself for an egg-hunting expedition, but not before she made herself a third promise on top of finding her parents and assisting Spyro: see Bentley again.

* * *

><p><strong>Hello,<strong>

**Alas, I have descended to the murky depths of romance *shakes head disappointedly*. I only have myself to blame: while working on some original writing recently I explored the theme repeatedly and now it's stuck with me. Still, at least it's practice in a genre I usually wouldn't touch with a bargepole.**

**I'll try and have this completed by the end of the month but it's touch-and-go. Part 4 will be here soon enough, so in the meantime why not leave a review? :D**

**Yours,**

**Tynesider**


	4. Evening

**Stage 4 – Evening**

Evenings were previously a time Sheila enjoyed, and it was this past enjoyment that caused her to loathe them now. She could recall a handful of evenings from her past and most of them featured her parents, and this was what stirred up such discomfort within her.

She sat on the lip of Evening Lake, splashing her feet in the cool water beneath. Seeing the crystalline water reminded her of when her father had taught her to swim back in the Alp, or rather had tried to, as her inherent dislike of water had made teaching difficult. To this day the best she could manage was a dog paddle, and while at first she was content with that she had grown more open to the idea of learning to swim properly in recent days. It would be a nice gift to her father, especially if she never saw him again.

She liked Evening Lake even if it did dredge up unpleasant memories. Despite the beatings it had taken under the Sorceress it had held out for Spyro's rescue, and Sheila had seen one or two creatures milling around to begin the clean-up operation of their homeworld. She thought of Spyro and smiled fondly – what had started as a hunt for dragon eggs had become a full scale coup d'etat, and the rebels were winning. The Rhynocs may have had weapons but as it transpired they weren't very good at using them, and one by one the worlds had fallen from the Sorceress' hands. Her attempts at curbing the revolution were failing also: the latest was a Rhynoc mutated into a hideous flying creature, but not even that could stop the purple reptile in his tracks. It was only a matter of time before the Sorceress was ousted, but before then it was important to rescue whatever eggs they could before she did anything to them.

That was where Sheila came in. She would have liked to have been on the front line providing helping kicks to Spyro, but she had been ordered to keep looking for dragon eggs and she didn't dare disobey an order from him. He was right, anyway: if there were eggs out there then they were still in danger, and she had no intention of sending Spyro home with less than the 150 eggs he was tailing. Her services weren't needed often, much to her dismay, but when she was sent into action she always made sure to do a good job of it. Every kick she delivered to a Rhynoc was filled with malice and hate, the by-products of capture and humiliation, and would endure no end of discomfort in order to retrieve the prize.

She looked down at her arms and smiled mournfully. They were covered in scratches – some mere nicks, others much deeper. On her waist she bore a patch of lighter shorter fur from where she had been hit by a bullet, and there was a noticeable cut above her left eye which had dyed half of her face red when inflicted. She kicked the water again as another memory flooded her brain, though this time her reaction was one of pained humour. Her mother would kill her if she saw her like this – she had been eager to turn her daughter into a 'lady', though from Sheila's experiences her mother's idea of a lady was someone who never had any fun. She recalled the countless times her mother had wagged her finger at her and uttered the immortal phrase,

"You'll never be a lady if you carry on like this!"

It didn't matter what Sheila had done: covered herself in mud or came home late or spent too much time around a particular boy, the phrase always had reason to be rolled out. The years of hearing it had grated her to no end, but now she was pleading with whatever Gods were out there to hear it again from the voice she had grown up hearing.

"You'll never be a lady if you carry on helping dragons," she smirked to herself, though inside she felt more like crying than laughing. "You'll never be a lady if you carry on rescuing eggs."

She kicked the water again, this time with more venom.

"You'll never be a lady if you carry on kicking Rhynocs," she said, her voice growing angrier, "And you'll never be a lady if you stop looking for your missing parents!"

She kicked against the water furiously, creating a violent pulse across the usually tranquil lake. Fat ripples tore across the blue, slapping against the crumbling castle walls, and their creator was showing no mercy. She had her eyes clenched shut and her teeth clamped together, channelling all available energy into destroying one of the few havens in the Forgotten Worlds. She would have kicked up the entire lake had the hand not fallen on her shoulder and scared the daylights out of her.

Traumatised by the feeling she spun and kicked out at the newcomer, catching him square but not sending him flying backwards. Instead she catapulted herself towards the lake, but the hand that had clutched her shoulder returned to save her from an unpleasant soaking.

"Blimey," the hand's owner said as he pulled her onto dry land, "You've got a powerful kick on you, haven't you?"

Sheila recognised the voice instantly. Looking up she saw the tufty white face of a yeti, a great blue club lying at his side.

"Sorry," she said, blushing out of embarrassment, "It's just you crept up on me."

"My sincerest apologies," Bentley replied. He placed her back on the grass and kissed her hand as a means of apology. Sheila giggled.

"So anyway, it's delightful to see you in Evening Lake. May I ask what brings you here?"

"Oh, just some downtime," Sheila said, submerging her feet in the lake again, "Just letting a few of my wounds heal before I go back into action."

"Ahh, rehabilitation. A sensible choice in my opinion," he sat down next to her, "It's important to place gaps between mindless acts of violence. If we don't we may begin to feel sympathy for the Rhynocs!"

"I'll never feel sympathy for them, not after what they've done to me," Sheila snarled, kicking the water again, "I can't wait to get back out there, trust me. I'll hit them wherever I see them. Man, woman, child, doesn't matter, they'll get a boot off of me!"

Bentley looked at her, slightly disturbed.

"I'd...erm...rethink that ideology if I were you, Sheila."

"Why?"

"Well...you should know your enemy. Rhynocs are dumb creatures and they don't know any better. Don't get me wrong, attack the ones that serve the Sorceress by all means, but the innocents...especially the children...I think we should leave them alone."

Sheila paused to ponder this, then nodded slowly, "Yeah," she said, her ears drooping, "Sorry...I got a little carried away; I see your point. Forgive me?"

"Of course," Bentley nodded, "Anyway, I really should tell you why I sneaked up on you like that. I saw Spyro a little while ago and he has a message for you, so I'm a messenger."

"Really? What did he say?"

"He's found your parents."

Sheila stopped dead, her kicking feet grinding to a sudden halt. She looked Bentley in the eye, something she had been unable to do before, and smiled. Inside she resisted the urge to scream with joy and bounce around Evening Lake with happiness-infused leaps, but instead she stayed put and tugged blades of grass from the ground beneath, smiling the entire time.

"I knew you'd like that," Bentley grinned."

"What did he say?" Sheila whispered, her suppression of her joy giving her a strained voice.

"He was in a place called Crystal Islands and he found two kangaroos there, and as a rule of thumb kangaroos don't live on floating islands of crystal. Since he knew you he asked them if they knew a kangaroo called Sheila, and as it transpired Sheila was their kidnapped child."

"So they're fine?"

"Yes. They said that after you'd been captured the Rhynocs had intended to capture them, but they managed to escape and settled in a safehouse in Crystal Islands set up by a few more escapees."

Sheila breathed a gargantuan sigh of relief before smiling wider, drumming the grass excitedly with her hands.

"You will never know how great it is to hear that," Sheila said, "I'd better go and see them pronto."

"Actually," Bentley said, "They have a message for you."

"Yeah? What is it?"

"Well, Spyro told them about he paid for your freedom and how you agreed to help him rescue the eggs, and they said they want you to help him collect every single egg before you go and see them."

Sheila stopped her drumming. "Are you sure? Was it not just Spyro tricking you?" she blinked, shrivelling in disappointment. Bentley saw this and placed a comforting arm on her shoulder.

"No, I'm afraid," Bentley said, "I was there when they said those words, and I would never lie to an ally of mine."

"Thanks," Sheila mumbled unhappily.

"Don't be disheartened! If it's any consolation they said they were very proud of you for what you were doing."

This drew her attention and she seemed to inflate again upon hearing his words.

"Really?"

"Their words exactly," Bentley nodded. Sheila, rebounding with the help of newfound energy, eagerly rose to her feet and wiped them dry on the grass. "Where are you off to?" Bentley asked.

"Well, Mum and Dad told me to help Spyro find his eggs, so I'm off to do just that."

"What about your so-called rest period?"

"Ahh, I'll get a good rest after I've been reunited with Mum and Dad," she scanned the horizon, looking a portal to exploit, "And the sooner I find the eggs the sooner I get to see them, so there's no time to waste."

She began to hop away as she spotted an icy blue portal submerged beneath a terracotta ziggurat, but stopped three bounds later as she realised she hadn't thanked Bentley for his uplifting news. It would be rude of her to leave him without gratitude, especially when he had delivered such vital news, but for a fleeting moment she couldn't think of a good way to convey her feelings. A few words would be professional but not an accurate representation of her feelings, while a hug seemed a little too...clingy, for need of a better word. She paused in indecision for a moment, then clicked her fingers as she realised the best method. Spinning on her heel, she hopped back over to Bentley and grabbed his hand. He jumped slightly in shock but smiled as he saw her.

"Can I help?"

"I just want to say thanks for telling me that. It was everything I wanted to hear and I'm incredibly grateful, so..." she lowered her head and kissed his hand, "Thank you."

She deliberately leapt into the water before he could respond, submerging her head and kicking away to remove any chance of hearing his voice. It had been years since she had submerged her entire body in water, and another flashback filled her head. Her father, again trying to teach her to swim, had pressured her to submerge her head and eventually she caved and did his bidding. Sheila didn't remember much of being underwater, but she had resurfaced spluttering and crying in her father's arms, desperately thumping her back to presumably force swallowed water out of her. That ill-fated event had led to an awkward journey home and an even more awkward confrontation between her parents, but despite its unhappy status it didn't seem to pain her. Now that she knew they were fine none of the memories that had plagued her seemed to weigh her down anymore, and as a consequence swimming underwater felt...well, natural.

She propelled herself through the portal to Frozen Altars and floated on the blue. Inside she worried slightly over how Bentley had reacted to her little stunt, but the feeling was quickly suppressed by the news. It would take her days to get over this, and not even a gamble like that could take away her happiness this time. For the first time in years she had found Nirvana, her mind and body finally in equilibrium after so much imbalance. She smiled to herself – the compass of life was finally pointing in the right direction.

Far above her in Evening Lake, Bentley continued to stare at the indentation in his fur where her lips had been. He remained motionless for a moment longer, then nodded.

* * *

><p><strong>Hello,<strong>

**Urgh, I'm terrible at setting deadlines. This probably won't be finished until April rather than my previous goal of March 31st, but I'll try and have it done ASAP.**

**For the sake of my sanity I've deviated from the romance route...well, slightly. Don't worry, I'm not messing with the plot for my own sake, I'm just easing off it a little and so far I think it's working nicely. :)**

**There's two parts left and I'll try and have one of them up by March 31st. Until then you can write a review if you want. :)**

**Yours,**

**Tynesider**


	5. Sunset

**Stage 5 – Sunset**

The coarse brick was beginning to graze her fur-coated skin, but Sheila couldn't bring herself to lift her head away from it. Without the brick to rest on she would have to look at the world around her and absorb the reality she was wilfully ignoring.

She wasn't scared of fighting or getting hurt, oh no, her fear was something less selfish than personal injury. What she was actually scared of was having the much anticipated reunion with her loved ones cut short by death. She had made them suffer enough what with being kidnapped and held captive for two-and-a-bit years, but the consequences of an unsuccessful battle...it didn't bear thinking about. She tried to shut the images out, but doing so drained her energy and made her slump to the grass beneath.

She pulled her knees to her chest and rested her chin on them, curling her tail around her side to create a fluffy ball scrunched against the brick. Midnight Mountain was a chilling place, even if the air was warm and buildings well-lit. Though Sheila was a great lover of darkness and the mystery it created there was something distinctly unwelcoming about this place, though that was probably due to the upcoming event that would turn the Mountain into a place of victory or a place of bloody defeat.

All eggs except for one were safe, but one egg was nothing more than a bartering tool for the Sorceress at this stage, so with her repelled to her Lair deep in Midnight Mountain Spyro had decided to make one final assault to oust her from the Forgotten Worlds once and for all. For such a momentous occasion he had recruited all of his allies, and while they had all assembled at Midnight Mountain over an hour ago they were still waiting for the order to make all hell break loose. The storm was inevitable, but it still hadn't appeared on the horizon.

She began tapping her feet rhythmically against the grass.

"One, two, one, two, left, right, left, right," she mumbled to herself as she rolled her feet, a repetitive and continuous drumbeat ringing out the final minutes of light. Though the sun never rose and set on Midnight Mountain there were smatterings of twilight coating the daylight hours, but at this moment the islands were about to be plunged into darkness once again. Sheila smiled weakly – the imaginary sun was about to set on the day and her adventures.

She continued drumming, eagerly awaiting the call to action so she could get it over with. Waiting was far more painful than any scar: at least with an injury your fate would be fairly easy to work out, but in waiting no odds were stronger than the other. She was keen to assist Spyro, no doubt about that, but with the stakes so high the chance of failure was one she could barely tolerate. She was so lost in her fear of failure that she didn't notice the drumming feet next to her until long after they'd played a sixteen-bar roll.

"One, two, one, two, left, right, left, right," a voice said cheerily, echoing her mumble from before. Sheila looked up and smiled, who else could it have been?

"Hey Bentley," she smiled, her drumming falling into sync with his.

"Hello, my good lady," he gently plucked her hand from her side and kissed it, "How are you this fine evening?"

"Nowhere near as calm as you are."

"Oh, don't be fooled by my charade. I'm panicking on the inside."

"Oh," Sheila blinked, "Well why are you making such an effort to hide it?"

Bentley shrugged, "It is good manners to act calm around those who do not seem composed."

"Does that mean I look as bad as I feel?"

"I presume so."

Sheila snorted, "Some warrior I'd make."

"Oh, don't say that. While your composure leaves a lot to be desired your offensive skills are that of an expert."

This drew a laugh from the kangaroo.

"Yes, I have a qualification in kicking. That puts me in the league of...oh, every kangaroo that ever existed?"  
>"Any kangaroo can kick, but only a few can deliver their blows with the precision and force that you achieve."<p>

"You could talk your way into anything, you know that?" Sheila giggled, "You could rule the entire world just by saying the right things at the right time."

"If only," Bentley said, limbering up his club arm, "But to seize power I must dispose of the incumbent first."

"Yeah," Sheila nodded, her uplifted mood sinking again, "Any word on when it'll begin?"

"Not yet, though Spyro did make it clear he doesn't want us to get too involved in the fight."

Sheila sat up with a start, "What?"

"He doesn't want us getting too involved with the action. Something about not causing us any harm."

"But that's suicide! We can't sit and do nothing! He'll get killed!"

"He didn't say do nothing, just contest the duel on the back foot. I suppose at this stage we'd be fools to ignore him, so let us assist but not too generously."

Sheila settled back down against the brick, disgruntled at what she was hearing. All that hard work and sacrifice collecting eggs just to sit on the back foot? With orders like that she was tempted to dive through the portal to Crystal Islands and reunite with her parents earlier than anticipated, but loyalty kept her backside glued to the grass. She sighed deeply and Bentley picked up on this.

"Problem?" he asked.

"A few, but I don't think sharing them would be of much use," she sighed again, "You know all but one of them."

"And what makes that one unique?" Bentley coaxed.

Sheila looked at him nervously, "Well..."

She was interrupted by a shout coming from above. The duo looked up to see a dragon flying overhead, his purple hue contrasting against the darkness, calling them to action.

"Well I sincerely hope your problems can wait, my good friend, as I believe the fun is about to begin," Bentley said. He grabbed his club and rose to his feet, then turned to help Sheila to hers.

They walked to the portal together, a small armada clumping together as they approached. Sheila didn't recognise any of them other than the yeti she stood alongside, but the size of the mob and the fact they held a common enemy comforted her slightly. Soon Spyro joined them and took up the head of the group, marching them into battle for hopefully the last time.

"Bentley?" she said as they entered one of the domed buildings that littered the floating islands.

"Yes?"

"I might as well tell you my other problem...'cause, well, you never know."

"If it makes you feel better than I'll happily listen."

Spyro shouted again and the entire group ground to a halt. They looked away from each other to see themselves face to face with a portal. The portal.

"Looks like we're out of time," Sheila murmured, "Oh well, I'll tell you later if I can."

"Can you summarise it?"

"There's not much point."

"Sheila, if sharing your problem will relieve your stress then please tell me it."

Sheila looked up at him and smiled weakly. Though her point could be summarised the layers would probably be peeled away in the shrinking process, undermining the point of her issue. Was it worth it? Probably. It was something minor really, and with each passing second she was strengthening the anti-climax that would come about because of it.

The line surged forward again and she made her decision. She reached up, patted Bentley on his back the best she could and spoke,

"Stay safe."

And then she was gone. Swallowed by the darkness of the portal to begin a battle that forked the road her life was on. Bentley followed shortly after, weapon in hand and ready to fight, but he couldn't help but feel touched by what Sheila had said even if it was completely innocent. He felt the layers unravel within him, revealing a more intricate message beneath, but he just couldn't decipher its meaning. He felt the uncertainty gnaw at his stomach, the last thing he needed at this moment in time, but he suppressed it. He had to be calm to do what was about to be done. He had to be calm to avenge what the Sorceress had done. He had to be calm to stay safe.

* * *

><p><strong>Hello,<strong>

**Just one stage left now, but unfortunately I'm away all next week so it may take me a while to get it done. As a compromise though I'll try and have a short piece by Sunday. I haven't written about Elora for a while anyway so it's time to fulfill that quota.**

**Yours,**

**Tynesider**


	6. Dusk II

**Stage 6 – Dusk**

The Alps were alive again.

Through the darkness of night Sheila could see the dull flicker of campfires, casting wispy trails into the darkness above. It pleased her to see them – when she had first returned she had found the goats holed up in their houses under a self-imposed siege. Now they were dancing in the moonlight and feeling warm and bright for the first time in years. Sheila smiled down at this fine and natural sight and took a sip from her drink to soothe her tension.

With the Sorceress gone the promised reunion was a mere ten minutes away. Ever since the announcement had come through that her parents were returning to the wooden shack Sheila had been rehearsing how to react when they appeared, and though it had been seven hours since they had departed she still couldn't think of an appropriate way to greet them upon their return. She was excited, no doubt about it, but throwing herself at them seemed needy and immature, especially after the risk she had posed to herself in collecting all of those eggs. On the other hand, a simple word of greeting and a hug seemed inadequate, and she worried that doing such a thing would make her parents think she had been desensitised by her experiences. She had made a lot of tough choices on this journey, some which had hurt her badly, but at this moment in time this felt like the most difficult choice of all.

She sipped her drink again and stared up at the mountains. What a battle it had been! The purple dragon in the arena with that fat lump, practically defenceless without her band of Rhynocs. That wasn't to say she hadn't put up a fight, oh no. The noise had been horrific – she remembered feeling a warm trickle coming out of her ringing ear – and the ground had shaken wildly, but she and the others had never stopped raiding the Sorceress' supplies to throw to Spyro. Naturally a few shots had been directed their way: Bentley had a small portion of his fur singed and a penguin in a helmet had to be taken away for treatment, but it only added to the excitement and then desire to win. Then, hours into the battle and with sweat dripping off them in torrents, the Sorceress had fallen. Into a pool of lava, to be precise, though she could have fallen into a pool of custard for the result would have been the same – victory for the revolution.

And so with the rebellion over she was back in her domain, received as a hero by the goats and presented with an array of hastily gathered gifts. She had declined all of them, however, instead asking for assistance in cleaning the shack, and the goats had duly obliged. Now it sparkled like it had never been vacated, like yesterday had been another day of her childhood. Sheila turned to look at the two chairs stood beside her own and smiled – normality was returning at long last.

There was a rustling at the top of the garden and she turned to face it, and her heart shot to her mouth. Worming over the horizon were two kangaroos, one supporting the other as he limped along with the aid of a stick. Sheila slowly placed down her drink and rose to her feet. This was it. Two-and-a-half years of anguish, graft and elbow grease culminating in this long sought after desire of hers. She stood still and let the duo approach, their features growing clearer with every step. She felt herself shake as she saw her father limping along, barely able to stand upright despite having a stick and a supporter at his side. Rage began to grow, the numerous possible reasons for this gathering in her head and narrowing to Sorceress-related scenarios, but she pushed them away. This was meant to be a time of celebration and she wouldn't let anything detract from that.

Then they were face-to-face. Mother, father and daughter together once more. They all eyed one another uncertainly, wanting to make the first move but unable to pluck up the courage to do so.

"H...hi..." Sheila said weakly. Her parents stood still for a moment longer, then her father broke free of his wife's grip, hobbled forward and hugged his daughter tightly.

Sheila did her best not to cry. She hated crying, it was a sign of weakness; an admission of defeat, but tonight she couldn't help it. She saw her father tear up too and her mother joined in shortly after placing her arms around both of them. They stood there as one, shrouded in mutual comfort, soothing one another while receiving for their own cries.

"It's alright, sweetheart," her father whispered through teary gasps, "We're all here again. Everything's fine now." Sheila only nodded in reply.

She remained clamped to her parents until their sobs dimmed, composure finally returning after a long overdue moment of intimacy. "Oh dear," her father laughed, rubbing tears from his reddened eyes, "We've got ourselves into a right state, haven't we?"

"Yeah," Sheila whispered.

"Come on, let's not cry anymore. This is meant to be a happy time, so let's sit down and catch up."

Dejectedly she broke free of her parents' grip but continued to hold her father as he staggered towards one of the chairs. She helped him into it with the assistance of her mother and the seated herself, dragging her chair across the grass so that she sat closer to them.

"Well," Sheila began, "How've you been?"

Her parents laughed at hearing an alien phrase they once considered normal.

"Oh, alright, I suppose," her mother replied, "We had a torrid time thinking of what had become of you, but once we knew you were okay we felt much better."

"Same with me, really," her father added, "Obviously what happened to my leg was a bit of a low moment but hearing about you made up for it."

"What happened to your leg anyway?"

"Took a blow from a Rhynoc while out looking for food. Suffered a break which eventually healed, but at my age I shouldn't be breaking limbs so I've developed a few walking problems."  
>Sheila's ears drooped at her news. While her father wasn't an athlete he had always been fleet-footed, but now it seemed those days were over. She sighed deeply, even in victory there was always some form of defeat.<p>

"It's alright, sweetheart, I wasn't that active anyway. Heck, this has encouraged me to start moving a little more. It's difficult, definitely, but it's possible, and that's enough for me," he reached forward and took his daughter's hand, "Don't worry about me. I'm getting older and I've done a lot of the things I've wanted to do at this stage. The only thing that was really left on my list was to see my daughter alive, and now that you're here I could drop dead right now and be a happy man."

"Please don't say things like that!" Sheila said suddenly, "I've been scared enough about you two over the last few years. I don't want to talk about death!"

Tension returned to the fray, the three kangaroos suddenly lost for words, but thankfully her mother managed to diffuse the situation with some quick thinking.

"It's been a long trip," she said, clapping her hands together, "I'll go and make some supper. Why don't you two talk about your experiences?" she got up and walked away, leaving her relatives trapped in a pit of awkwardness.

Sheila started drumming her feet on the grass, a small act which she had turned into a habit in recent days. This reunion wasn't going as she had intended – instead of a family laughing and joking there was more tension than ever. What they needed was an ice-breaker, and while she didn't have one her father did.

"I met an interesting fellow on the way home," he said, removing his glasses and wiping away the steam that had built there.

"Oh yeah?"

"Yeah. A yeti, great big creature with a blue club, speaks like a true Pom..."

"Bentley?"

"Yes," he nodded, "When did you meet him?"

"When I was looking for eggs."

"I see, it's just once he found out we were related he talked about you," he nodded at the house and smiled, "A lot."

Sheila read into his gesture and smirked.

"Oh no, don't tell me..."

"Yes, your mother's back to her best."

They laughed, another alien feeling to them both.

"Honestly, she's about to meet her missing daughter after two-and-a-half years and all she can think about is what men I've been talking to. She never changes, does she?"

"Well if it's any consolation I was looking forward to seeing you," he said, replacing his glasses, "But be truthful, do you..."

"No," Sheila said, an assurance in her tone, "He's a lovely person and I like him very much as a friend, but I'm not interested in going out with yetis."

"Your mother's going to be disappointed to hear that."

"Knowing her she'll have already picked out the dress."

"I wouldn't be surprised."

The conversation continued, and with each word the tension slackened. The iciness of the initial meeting slowly descended into a natural heart-to-heart. They shared tales of their lives apart – the years in the cage and Crystal Islands; their finest and darkest hours and the many people they met along the way. Slowly Sheila was beginning to grow to her father once again, the years apart creating a void between them that was slowly being filled for the second time. As they talked she realised that up until this point she had loved her parents for being her parents, the experiences that cemented such a bond all but forgotten in the wake of imprisonment and egg-hunting. Now she was being reminded of all the things they had done for her: cheering her up when she was down; caring for her when she was ill; tucking her in at night, suddenly they had value again. There were literally thousands of reasons why she loved them; it was only a shame it took her this long to realise it.

"I was just wondering," her father said as the smell of cooking wafted through the air, "Do you remember when you were obsessed with dragons?"

"Vaguely," Sheila replied, "Why do you ask?"

"Well, you got your chance didn't you? To meet a dragon, I mean."

"Yeah."

"So what was it like?"

"Good," Sheila said, "I didn't see too much of him, but when I did it was always enjoyable. Then again he saved my bacon so he could have used me as a punchbag and I still would have been grateful."

"Could you be a little more specific?"

Sheila eyed her father curiously.

"Why the sudden interest?"

"I've always kinda liked dragons myself, it's why I brought them up all those years ago."

"So you're jealous."

"A little," he shrugged, a guilty smile hanging on his lips.

"Well he gave me a contact address so I'll invite him around sometime."

"That would be nice."

"Well, it'll give him a chance to see what he's achieved since he arrived here."

"It would take him years to see everything though," he said, gazing up at the stars around him, "This is the beginning of a new Forgotten Worlds. It might be good; it might be bad, but at the end of the day we got what we wanted and that little dragon's cemented his place in history because of it."

"Yeah," Sheila said. She scooted her chair closer to her father's and gave him another hug. He happily returned the favour.

In the distance the bonfires of the goats fizzled out, a few wisps of smoke billowing skywards before assimilating with the darkness. Father and daughter watched the light show end and relaxed into the gloom.

"Well," he said, "That's the end of today."

"No it's not, there's still a couple of hours left."

"But it is. They're all going home now so there'll be no action until tomorrow. A day is only as long as its people are awake for."

"I suppose, but why is the party ending so soon?"

"They can't wait for tomorrow," he said simply, "Tomorrow is the beginning of the rest of their lives, and they've all got a good feeling about it. Myself included," he sniffed the air, "Smells like supper's nearly ready." He grabbed his stick and slowly levered himself to his feet. Sheila quickly jumped to assist him as he trembled under his own body weight.

"Here," she said, placing an arm across his shoulders, "I'll help you."

"Thanks sweetheart."

Slowly they began to shuffle towards the shack. Behind them every last slither of light had disappeared, the sun no longer having any effect on the Alp. But tonight it didn't matter that the sun was gone – for once there was light inside the shack, and as Sheila closed the door the monsters of the dark were shut out for the first time in years. The dark emotions that had plagued them for so many years were now defeated, and as she helped her father to his seat at the table Sheila looked out of the window. Tomorrow the sun would come up on a new beginning, and she smiled when she knew she wouldn't embrace it alone.

* * *

><p><strong>Hello,<strong>

**Look what you can do when you set your mind to it. :) I thought I shouldn't go away with a job unfinished, so with a little dedication I managed to write the final part. Enjoy!**

**Please leave a review. I'm always looking for feedback to help me improve my writing.**

**Yours,**

**Tynesider**


End file.
